Wavering Hope
by juniper294
Summary: The team is called out on a routine bomb threat. But when everything is not as it seems, civilian lives are at stake, as well as their own.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first Flashpoint fic. Let me know if characters seem too OOC, or if there are any mistakes. Take place after Aisle 13, before One Wrong Move.**

Team One deployed at 1300 hours. Not nearing the end of their shift, but definitely far enough into the day that Sergeant Greg Parker could feel the mid-day weariness seeping from the members of his team before the hot call came in.

Two employees of WhitCo had found a package with a letter attached in one of the company's busiest branches. After calling it in, Team One was sent to check it out.

The three black SUVs pulled up to the yellow caution tape, Greg got out of the car first, ducking under the tape and entering the scene.

"Inspector Stainton, what's the word?" Greg said approaching the grey-haired detective. He kept the usual levity in his voice as he glanced at the large, but not tall, building in front of him. Only four floors, but thousands of square feet to clear out.

"We've got uniforms evacuating the building top to bottom. Bomb's in the second floor filing room. Workers said there was a note about justice taped on it, said it was gonna blow at two," Stainton said, keeping it as brief as possible.

"WhitCo's involved in insurance, no red flags there," Greg thought for a moment. "This is a busy place, but that doesn't explain why it was targeted. We'll have the building clear by two."

Greg ran through the profiles in his head as Ed started giving the orders. His natural position with his hands folded in front of him belied the intensity of his voice. "Sam, North containment. Lou, West, Wordy, East. Jules, you'll be second to Boss," He then looked to the final member of the team. "Spike, check out the bomb."

Greg trusted Ed with his life and agreed with the positions. He moved toward the van knowing Jules would be the best profiler for the scene today. "Find all you can about WhitCo. Shady dealings, disgruntled employees, anything that would explain why here," he nodded to Jules.

The petite SRU member acknowledged the command and sat in place.

"1:07 p.m. Bomb call. Robot sending out signal blocking remote detonation," Jules started up record of the hot call.

Greg didn't need to be listening to know that Spike would respond with his typical affection for "BabyCakes."

"Alright guys, we have 53 minutes to evacuate the building and secure that bomb."

"Assuming this guy's any good with timers," Spike said.

"Got anything yet?"

"Looks like it's safe to approach."

Greg let out a sigh of relief, even if it was a little premature. If nothing else, the bomber either was not sophisticated enough to deal with booby-traps or he felt like he didn't need them. He didn't bother reminding Spike to let him know about the note apparently attached. That would help with the profile.

"Anything yet?" Greg looked to Jules.

"There're over a thousand employees at this branch alone. It also stands as the headquarters for local businesses across the country. It's gonna take some time, Boss."

Greg moved outside the van to talk to Stainton about the two employees who had discovered the bomb.

. . .

"This way, Ma'am. We have to have this building clear," Constable Kevin Wordsworth herded the staggering woman in the direction of the rest of the crowd. He used his business voice, the one that comforted his daughters after a nightmare and soothed a panicked businesswoman into a more sensible state.

The elderly woman continued to look over her shoulder as they continued down the hallway, but put up no further effort to return to her office. Sometimes Wordy had to question the sanity of people who spent their 9-5 in a box, but he knew the same could be said for his own choice of career. They all questioned the SRU at points, it'd be insane not to.

"East wing contained," Wordy said into the com as the last of the crowd exited the rear of the building. Officers guided them from there out.

"Could use a little help over here. Convention of some sort," Lou's disgruntled voice responded.

Wordy headed in that direction with a conformation from Ed. He headed to Lou's location, third floor in a large conference room. People were ducked under chairs, too scared to move. Other's complained about the importance of the event they had interrupted. This place was a mess.

"Boss, we got a problem," Spike interrupted. "Or lack thereof."

"Talk to me." Greg said.

"This isn't a bomb."

"Repeat?"

"It looks like a bomb, circuitry, framework, everything . There is a distinctive lack of explosives though."

There was a pause for a moment. Wordy had to assume that the Boss needed a moment to re-categorize his profile. He needed a second to think of what this meant.

"Whoever did this knew what they were doing. Everything's right. Sophisticated technology, just lacking the anything that would make it useful. It was designed to look right, even to someone who knew a little about explosives," Spike continued in the silence.

"I'm going to need that note fast. Sam, retrieve it. Wordy, Lou, keep up the containment. We don't know what this guy has planned and we should assume this might have been a ploy of some sort."

Wordy shook his head in disbelief. He had heard of false bomb threats, but this was something else.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to stand up. We've evacuating the building for your safety," He motioned to a man crouched under his briefcase.

. . .

Jules had paused in her search for something relevant hearing the news of the fake bomb, repeating into the system before she could even think her way through the ramifications. Her fingers stilled on the keyboard fractionally before going back to narrowing a list of prior employees with a record.

The search was too wide; there were still too many employees to begin to even look into the individuals. She looked over to the Boss, seeing him hand over mouth, clearly thinking.

"The employees said that the note said that justice had to be done, that there were too many wrongs. It said that the bomb served as a warning, that it was going to blow at two. It doesn't make sense," Sarge said, pacing as he spoke.

"Is it possible that it was a mistake?" Jules asked. "That he meant to finish the bomb, but forgot?" She felt stupid even as she asked the question, but she needed to hear Spike's response all the same.

"No way, this thing was constructed based on hiding the lack of explosives for as long as possible. He knew it wouldn't work."

"Anything to go off of with the materials? Serial codes, anything?" Jules was desperate to solve the puzzle just as much as the Boss.

"Mostly stuff you can buy at your local hardware store. Nothing recognizable."

"How are we doing with containment?" Ed asked over the com like it should have been done yesterday.

"West wing down to maybe a hundred," Lou's voice responded.

"And how's that note coming?"

"I'm on the second floor now, almost there," Sam didn't sound out of breath just yet, but Jules could tell he had been really moving by the sound of his voice.

She should be embarrassed at how intimately she knew the pitches and tones of that voice, but if you asked her she would say that she knew the whole team in the same way. Still, the extra hours spent together outside of work made her just a little more familiar with Sam. It didn't matter now. She had put an end to their arrangement the second she knew she was returning to SRU after her recovery from the bullet wound. Relationships did not work with coworkers, particularly in this business.

Jules threw Sam out of her head as quickly as possible, focusing once more on the screen. She had to find something to narrow this list down.

. . .

Ed wasn't sure if the fact that the bomb was not real ending up calming his mind or doing the opposite. While it was all great that they didn't have to deal with the explosives at two, it also meant that the element of surprise just kicked up a notch. They had no idea what to expect next, or if there was more to this call than the bomb at all.

He had just finished interviewing one of the clerks who spent most of their time in the filing rooms when he had heard the news. Part of him wanted to believe this was some prank a peer-influenced teenager had concocted. Evidence and the rational part of his mind disagreed.

He moved on to getting an updated profile of the team after the interview led nowhere. She had been on her hour lunch break since noon and hadn't noticed anything beforehand. Lou and Wordy were almost done with containment. Sam almost had the note. At least they were making progress. If they had known the bomb was fake the second they approached, maybe Sarge could have his hands on that note a little faster. Maybe it would shed some light on the situation, or as Spike had said, lack thereof.

Ed moved toward the van to see if there had been any update not worthy of the com system. Jules might need some help on the research. Maybe the Boss needed a bouncing board for ideas.

That small part of his mind that kept the hope going, the part that demanded this was just a trick, a bizarre version of a publicity statement, was shattered by a loud sound from behind him.

Before he could even turn around, sequenced explosions came from all sides of the building. Screams were heard as a fires flared out of some of the windows. Ed could feel the heat from where he stood near the van.

It took him a second to realize his hands were covering his ears. But the second rational thought worked again, he was calling out the names of his teammates still in the building.

"Spike? Lou? What's going on in there guys?"

Silence met his questions and the only thing he could think of was that there were no explosives in the building. No explosives in the building that just exploded.

Sarge took over his questioning. "Wordy? Sam? Anybody copy?"

The Boss shook his head in frustration before barking orders at the firemen stationed on scene. They were going in blind. The team had no idea whether there were any more bombs and what kind of casualties they were facing.

"What happened?" A weak voice mumbled on the other side of the com, one that was distinctly male, and not the Boss.

"Wordy, that you?" Ed asked, feeling the relief as suddenly as the initial explosions. "Talk to me," he continued knowing his coworker needed some prompting.

"There was an explosion, multiple explosions."

There was a pause. He might be concussed, or just simply out of it after what happened.

"Is everyone alright?" Wordy asked. Ed had to fight back the bitter smile that threatened to appear.

"You tell me, buddy. Is Lou with you? How many civilians?"

"I'm alright," Another voice came on. "I'm alright," Lou repeated.

"Good, that's good. What's it look like in there?"

"Not much to see. There's a lot of smoke and debris. About twenty people were with us before they went off," Lou said.

The Boss was standing next to him now, Jules peeking out of the van with grim expression.

"We still have nothing. No idea if this is political, personal, what. We can hope that was the last of the bombs, but we have no way of knowing. We need to find some suspects," Sarge said. He moved his hand to the com system. "Spike, Sam?" He tried to rouse the other members of the team.

Ed only hoped they were still alive.

**Like I said before, please let me know what you think. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I get some feedback.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I told myself I was going to wait at least until tomorrow to post this, but I'm excited for people for read this, so I suppose I can post one more chapter today =)**

It hurt. It hurt more than he cared to think about, if he could even think anymore. Then again, if he couldn't think then he would be dead because to be alive was to think. Or maybe. He didn't really like thinking anymore. His thoughts felt like they had been put through the blender, as with the rest of his body.

It was not a discriminatory pain either. It radiated through his whole body without a single focus point. All of his nerves were firing and it was just too much information. He wanted to surrender to it, make it all go away. That wasn't a choice, though. Sam tried to pull his eyes opened and let out a groan simultaneously, without his permission or awareness.

It was dark where he was. Where was he? WhitCo. There had been a false bomb. There were no explosives. But as he became more and more alert to the crumbling surroundings and smoke in the air, he had to disagree with Spike. He might not be a bomb expert, but he was pretty sure explosives had been involved.

Spike. The thought of his coworker and friend had him attempting to role onto his stomach. He didn't have the strength to get up. His chest and legs protested violently and Sam had to take a moment to keep himself from puking at the sensation of bone against bone.

"Spike?" He tried to call out. It sounded more like a croak, cracking on the short word. "Spike?" He tried again, this time a little louder and a little clearer.

Still no response. Sam felt forward with his hands, trying to feel for his companion in the dark space. He had been right there. Spike had handed him the note and he was about to leave. That was the last thing he could remember. Spike should be right here.

More blind searching. Sam dragged himself with his hands, fighting the how light-headed he suddenly felt. "Spike?" He called out for a third time.

It felt like he had crawled miles, had moved in a circle more than once, when his hand connected with something other than drywall and wood. Something warm, soft, and moving slightly. Sam moved closer to the body and sagged against it for a moment.

He gathered his strength and moved against a wall in order to prop himself up to get a better look. Spike hadn't been answering. He had no idea how long he sat there before he felt like he could breathe, and more importantly see. He looked at Spike, saw the blood matted in his hair, but otherwise he didn't look too bad. Sam took a breath, and started to feel Spike's limbs for breaks. Everything looked okay. He felt around the wound on his head. That, on the other hand, did not look good. There was a lot of blood, but none from his ear or nose. No bone fragments in the wound. That was at least something.

Sam had to concentrate. Another deep breath. He rummaged around for something to place against the wound until he found a piece of cloth- from whose clothing he did not know- that looked clean enough. He pressed it against the wound, but Spike didn't stir. Another breath. Breathing hurt, but it cleared his mind a little more. The others. They were in the building too. The moment he thought of his comrades, both in and out of the building, he moved around to find his only way of communication. For a brief second he thought it was lost before his hand moved to where it dangled against his shoulder.

He fumbled with it as he tried to put it back into his ear, another moment for it to be working. He heard Ed talking, and then Sarge. He let the calm and authoritative voices take him back to the days where this situation was not that uncommon, back when he listened to orders without question. He gave himself the order to pay attention, to stay calm, and to listen for just a moment, distinguish the words before he made contact.

. . .

Sergeant Greg Parker was not someone to be messed with at the moment. He had Winnie set up a tip line, helped Jules and her sort through them. He explained the situation they were in to the firefighters. He gave the last known locations of all his men and civilians they knew of. He calmed and assessed both Lou and Wordy, all while frequently calling out Spike and Sam's name. He managed this in a manner of minutes.

It still wasn't enough. Spike and Sam were not responding, and that was all it took for Greg to feel off kilter. He was standing outside the West wing, watching as the firemen came out with people cradled in their arms or thrown over their shoulders.

"No casualties so far," Ed said as reassurance. Greg knew he was trying to say that the odds were in their favor, that he was doing everything he could.

"That's good. Has the tip line come up with anything yet?" He asked, knowing that Ed was checking any leads.

"Not yet, but there are calls pouring in. It may take time."

Greg shook his head. "We don't have time. If there is something else planned, we need to know."

Greg heard Ed start to respond when he was interrupted.

"Sarge?" He heard. Soft and in pain. "Ed?"

Before he could question whether this was Spike or Sam, because the voice was not a lot to go on, another voice kicked in. "Sam, are you alright?" Jules's voice sound close to panicking.

"Sam, is that you buddy?" Greg asked. He kept his voice devoid of any emotion other than calm. If it was Sam, he didn't sound alright.

"Yeah, it's Sam," he replied, barely audible.

"How are you doing?"

"Spike's with me. He's out, but his pulse and breathing are steady. He's bleeding a lot though," Sam avoided the question. This sparked immediate fear into Greg. In the field, Sam was a solider. He obeyed orders and answered questions. Something was wrong.

"What about you, buddy? How are you doing?"

Even if the rest of the team was not near him, Greg could feel them hanging on Sam's words just as much as he was.

"I'm not so bad."

If he wasn't in this situation, if he was in any other situation, he would have laughed at the understatement. Without even seeing him, he knew something was wrong. It was bad.

"Can you give me specifics? What hurts?"

"I'm alright. I found the note."

As much as Greg wanted to disregard the stupid note and demand answers, he needed what was written on the page. They needed to know what it said and he prayed there was some sort of clue as to who was behind this on there.

"Good. You think you can read me that note?"

"It says, I think it says-" Silence for a moment. Greg shook his head. This wasn't good. He still listened to the words that Sam began to read in that same tired, pained voice.

_There is a time for justice. This is the time. You have made too many mistakes. They must be righted. There is a bomb. It will go off at 2:00p.m. If you had listened to the warnings, this would not have to be done. This is the final warning._

Greg shook his head again at the end of the note. "There any signature at the bottom, Sam?"

"Uh, no, I don't see one."

"Jules, you have that transcribed?"

"Yes, Sir,"

"Okay, I'm headed your way. Sam, can you tell me where you are? What you see?" He needed to make sure they were safe to stay where they were for the time being, until rescue could come.

"In the filing room. The door isn't there anymore. It's caved in, pretty tight in here."

Greg didn't think this day could get any better.

. . .

Lou glanced over at Wordy every few minutes as they calmed the panicked workers down. Rescue workers were on scene and carrying the injured out first. Six were critically injured. The rest, Wordy included, had minor bumps and scrapes. Lou watched out for his teammate though, he still seemed pretty confused, even if he was hiding it.

And it was just like him to hide the severity of his injury in the middle of a call. Then again, it was just like the entire SRU to do the same. As he listened to Sam and the Boss talking on the com system, he could feel Sarge's frustration as Sam's lack of willingness to talk about himself.

At least they knew Spike was alright for the time being, or at least not dead yet. Lou tried to stay optimistic. He was an optimistic person. Things just kept getting worse. The note sounded bad. He glanced at his watch. It was already 1:43. If there was another bomb, the note said it was going off at two. He didn't profile like Sarge did, but he knew he didn't want to find out what happens at two.

"Is this on the news?" A man in a crumpled suit asked him. He had blond hair, spiked slightly in the front. He could almost pass as a teenager with the roundness of his face giving him a baby-like appearance. Blood dripped from his nose, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. "You think we're going to be on the news?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Lou responded, not having any further information to give the guy. He hoped it was the right thing to say, he didn't deal as well with people as Sarge or Ed. He definitely beat Sam and his negotiations though. His were almost comical, if the idea that their lives might depend on them someday didn't ring in the back of his mind.

The man nodded. "I wonder if my girlfriend is watching," he said before following one of the fireman's outstretched arms.

Lou glanced at Wordy once again. He still looked pale and slightly out of it, but he was doing his job just as well as the rest of them, so Lou resigned to just have him checked out when they escaped this fire trap.

The entire building was in shambles. Upon looking into it, there had been small explosives in trashcans around the building. They weren't enough to send the whole building up in flames, but enough to do some serious damage. Lou wasn't sure all of the injured were going to make it.

As an SRU officer, he knew civilians came first. He still worried just as much as he heard Sam's loud breathing as he tried to talk over the com system. The fact that Spike still hadn't woke up yet set off even more alarms in his head. He had to worry about facts he could change, though. And right now, that meant getting Wordy and the rest of the civilians out of here. They still had to search the rest of the building for stragglers as well. At least North and East wings were confirmed empty. That was one less thing to worry about.

"How many left in there?" He heard Ed ask.

"About a dozen, including me an' Lou," Wordy said. He sounded slightly better than before.

"We're going to need to move faster than that," Ed said, but Lou wasn't sure if that was to them or himself. It was nearing two. If the building was going to blow again, civilians needed to be clear.

With less than twenty minutes left, the chance of the whole building being empty was slim to none. This thought cleared him of the aches and pains he felt in his joints and back, pushing him to save the innocents, and his friends. He hoped it would be enough.

**I know every author puts this at the end of each chapter, but I really, really, really would love some reviews. So, out of the kindness of your heart, please tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter. Thank you for the amazing reviews, the more you say the better. They make me happy =)**

Spike was first aware of the noises around him. Harsh breathing. The sound of an old building creaking under pressure. Voices in his ear. He turned his head to hear those voices better. That was when he first became aware of the headache. Headache didn't even begin to define the awful sensation originating from the back of his head. His face scrunched at the feeling.

"Spike? You awake, man?"

He heard the voice from near his head, but on the opposite side of the other, duller voices. This voice seemed clear and close. Spike looked at the source.

"Sam?" He asked through the darkness. There was a flickering light overhead, just enough to see the outline of his friend. "That you?"

A smile broke out on the dirty face of his friend.

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?"

"I feel like I've been hit by a bomb," Spike tried to joke. Then he thought of where he was and why he was here. He could only shutter at what he could remember. "The bomb-" he started.

"It wasn't the one you were looking at. There were others, all around the building. See?" Sam pointed towards a corner. Spike squinted to make out the familiar shape of a bomb. He knew it was safe, had inspected it himself. That didn't stop the inward cringe he felt at seeing it again.

"We missed other bombs?" He managed to get out.

"Yeah, they were hidden in trashcans apparently, throughout the whole building."

Spike took a minute to think about this, about everything that had happened so far.

"Is there a way out of here?"

He took a survey of the room, but he couldn't see much from his position. It was dark and he was on his back. The ceiling was in the best view for him right now, and he needed to see the rest of the room. Sam shook his head. It didn't stop Spike from pulling his arms back in an attempt to reorient himself. The world turned into a merry-go-round, spinning before his eyes. His body told him to return to his prone position, his mind demanded more of him. He was on the job. He had to suck it up.

"Take it easy," Sam muttered, not moving to help though. When Spike managed to get himself leaning against the same wall as Sam, he took an inventory of him. Sam looked no better than he probably did.

"Are you okay?" Spike said.

The ends of Sam's mouth curved upward. "Been better," he let out with a breath. He then moved to turn on the com system, something Spike had completely forgotten about in the turn of events. "Spike's awake."

Immediately Spike heard voices through his com, the same ones from before, this time directed towards him and a lot less hazy.

"You there, Spike?" Sarge said clearer than the rest. "How are you feeling?"

There was no point in lying. The team knew he had been out. "My head's a little sore," Spike admitted. He could imagine the groans on the other side from his statement.

"You just hang in there, both of you. I'm glad you're awake though, that's a good sign. How are you holding up, Sam?"

Spike looked over at him once again and took stock of his tired features, slumped body. The fact that he hadn't helped him up meant a lot. There was something wrong with him. Spike voiced his concern.

"I'm fine," Sam responded, both to the com system and to Spike. He didn't believe him.

Spike tuned out the voices on the other side. Not professional, for sure. At the moment though, he had to check on his friend. It was unprofessional to lie to the Boss too. Understate, that's alright. Spike didn't say he was ready to go though, not like Sam had.

"What are your injuries?" Spike asked with the com system off. He had to know what he was dealing with, even if Sam didn't want Sarge to know.

Sam looked reluctant to respond. "I think my leg's broken. And maybe I bruised some ribs. It's not that bad."

Moving his eyes hurt, but Spike shifted his gaze down to Sam's legs. They were both limp in front of him, neither looking out of place. "Which one?" He asked.

"Left. Don't touch it."

"Where at?"

"Femur," Sam mumbled. Spike stared wide-eyed for a moment. Not even thinking about the ramifications for his career, Spike knew that it hurt. It probably made his headache look like a minor boo-boo. He looked around for something maybe to splint the leg with, but there was nothing. Nothing even that he could improvise with. He knew Sam had to stay still, but the sniper already seemed to know this as well, or at least he was not inclined to move.

"What about your chest?" Spike asked when he stopped ruminating on the leg.

"I don't think anything's broken. It just hurts to breathe a little. I probably bruised some ribs, that's all."

Spike nodded, somewhat satisfied that Sam was telling the truth. He turned the com system back on. "We're back," he said before he could hear any conversation on the other side.

"Everything okay there, buddy?" Sarge sounded relieved, and Spike felt momentarily guilty for having ignored him for a minute. He needed answers though, and he got them. He didn't feel bad for that. Sam's reluctance to admit he was in pain in such a situation seemed out of character for him, but Spike chalked it up to the fact that he _was_ in pain. Broken femur. Spike shuddered at that. He knew he should try harder to help his friend, but he couldn't think of anything that would lessen that pain.

"We're alright," Spike said. "Just had to check out where we were."

Sam seemed okay with that response, he had tensed when Sarge had asked the question. Spike knew he had to tell the Boss though. He needed to know how much time they had and that Sam wasn't mobile.

Spike closed his eyes. His head hurt too bad to be thinking this much. He wanted to be back in bed, or at least analyzing a bomb. Anything was better than sitting here with a probable concussion, waiting to be rescued. There was no way the two of them were getting out of here without assistance. Especially Sam.

"You two still alright? What's going on?" Sarge asked.

Spike had to bite the bullet, even if it was going to make Sam angry. At least he could outrun him. Assuming he didn't black out the second he tried to stand. "I probably have a concussion." Spike started out with the easy stuff. That could be assumed from the fact that he had been knocked out for a moment. "Sam's broke his leg, maybe some ribs too."

Spike looked over to Sam before finishing. "Any head injury?" He asked directly to him.

Sam scowled. "I bumped my head, but I didn't break the skin. And I don't have any symptoms of a concussion."

"Alright, do you have anything to splint the leg?" Sarge asked first.

"That's a negative, Boss," Spike responded.

"Okay. You just stay put, Sam, and we'll get you out of there."

Sam turned and glared at Spike for a moment before turning straight again and staring at the wall. Spike hoped his team would rescue them soon, before there was only one of them to rescue.

. . .

Jules could not afford to tune into the conversation as she scanned through the tip line. She listened to caller after caller report seemingly useless information, glad that Winnie was helping as well. They were making progress in the list, but nothing seemed to be of any use.

Jules glanced at the clock. 1:54. She wanted them all to be safe by two. She tried to remain optimistic, but she heard the fireman's reports. The stairs had collapsed and they were working their way through fire and unsteady building, worry about bombs as well. They weren't optimistic, so it was hard for her to be.

She had to pause when she had first heard Sam's voice, at the way it sounded so out of character. She knew he was hurt just as the rest of the team, no matter how much he denied it. So when Spike came on, Jules once again had to pause ever so briefly to hear what he was saying.

She immediately let out a breath the moment she heard Spike's voice. Being unconscious for too long was worrisome. Still, he sounded coherent now and as long as he didn't regress, he was probably alright. When she heard his inventory of Sam she once again paused.

"_I bumped my head, but I didn't break the skin. And I don't have any symptoms of a concussion."_

She huffed inwardly there. He was still playing everything down. If there was one person who should keep his cool in life or death situations, it should be Sam. He should know the importance of telling Sarge everything that was going on. She wouldn't be surprised if he _did_ have a concussion.

Jules focused back on the tip line. She couldn't be distracted by her teammates. This was why they didn't allow relationships. Still, she and Sam had called it off. They were really just good friends now, and that wasn't against the rules. The job was essential, no matter her feelings. She had to focus on the one thing she could do to help.

"Jules, I think I got something," She heard Winnie say. Jules couldn't help but zone in on exactly what Winnie said next. "I have a caller. He's talking about two o'clock. We haven't released that to the media yet."

Finally, a lead. "Let's patch this into Sarge then. He still on the phone?" Jules responded quickly. At Winnie's affirmative, Jules let the Boss know what was going on.

"This is Sergeant Greg Parker with the Strategic Response Unit. May I ask who I'm talking to?" Sarge said the moment he was on the same line as the caller. Jules listened in for any clues or hints of what this guy was thinking.

"You had warning. There should have been enough time. They should be out of there by two," the voice sounded upset, but not distraught. He mentioned warning again, just like in the note. Different context here though. The conversation between the anonymous tipper and the Boss transcribed onto the screen in front of her. Jules watched for accuracy.

"What's going to happen at two?" Sarge responded in his calmed tone, as if he were speaking to a friend about the weather.

"They have to be out of there, but you're barely half-way done."

Jules took note of the fact that the tipper knew what kind of progress was being made. He must be in the area. She was confident that Sarge took notice of this as well. The Boss stepped into the van only a moment after this thought crossed her mind.

He switched to the com system. "You hearing this, Ed? Be on the lookout for anybody nearby on their phone," He ordered before switching tone and call. "We're trying our best, but we need to be prepared for what comes at two. We only have," He glanced at the clock and put his hand over his mouth with emotion. "We only have three minutes."

"It's too late. It's too late. No, no, no, no, no!" The voice was screaming by the end.

"Subject's in custody," Ed said in a detached tone. Jules's mouth opened. They went from having no leads to a subject in custody within minutes. But, there was a sinking feeling in her stomach that the tipper was right. That it was too late. There was no hope left.

**I'm being greedy. Next chapter will be up the sooner I get feedback… You guys are awesome!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh, nothing major in this chapter, I just wanted to let everyone know that I have no medical training. Everything here is to the best of my knowledge. Sorry if it's wrong.**

Ed started his search for a spectator talking on his phone. From the voice, he sounded emotional. He looked for hand gestures or any expression aside from the panic cause by either being inside the building or witnessing it.

It didn't take him long. Ed rounded to the West wing where evacuations were still ongoing. If the man could see this, he had to be nearby. And Ed was right. He moved around the back of a man who was pacing back and forth, running his hand through already disheveled hair. "It's too late," The man was saying in sync with the tipper on the com system.

He was by the van in less than a minute. The Boss came out and stood in front of him. He had dishwater blonde hair and no facial hair. He wore jeans and a winter coat. With his hands cuffed behind his back and the crushed expression on his face, he looked like the wrong guy. Ed knew he wasn't.

This was the man responsible for the fake bomb. He was responsible for the explosions that littered the building, injuring four of his men. He was the reason they were trapped in the building with no way out. Ed knew this guy knew what was going to happen in two minutes. Ed hoped that he knew a way to stop it.

"You have to understand," the man said before Sarge could even begin. "I didn't mean for this. You're supposed to have the building cleared. It was 'posed to be cleared before the first ones went off. I gave you twice the time that I thought it was gonna take for evacuation. Why weren't they out?"

The Boss took on his negotiation demeanor, clear and to the point. Ed had always admired the way he could transform at a moment's notice to be exactly what was required for the situation. Time was of the essence. They needed information five minutes ago.

"I have four men still in the building. We know of at least six civilians. There are still people unaccounted for. If something is going to happen at two, we need to know how to stop it."

The man was shaking his head before Sarge had even finished. "I can't," he was hyperventilating at this point. "It's too late, it's too late for me t' change anythin'. There's nothin' I can do."

"What's going to happen at two?"

"We have sixty seconds before the whole place collapses," he mumbled. "I jus' wanted to fix the mistakes. I left a warning."

Ed swore under his breath. There was nothing left to do. Suppose they knew where the bomb was, there was no way to reach it in time to disarm it.

"I don't want to kill anybody," the man practically moaned. Sarge put his hands on the man's arms.

"I need you to tell me where the bomb is." His voice was still collected, despite the horror that seemed to be immanent.

"It's too late. It's too late."

Ed looked at his watch and swore again. Only ten seconds left. "We need to get under cover," he said, moving both himself and the suspect behind the van.

. . .

Lou listened to the conversation going on outside. They had apprehended the suspect, but there was no time left. They had to move these people out, now. They had minutes left. He glanced at Wordy. He didn't want this to be the end. If the bomb went off, especially if it was in their vicinity… He didn't want to finish the thought.

"Everybody get under the tables," he shouted to the six remaining men. "Fast and calm, guys. Cover your necks and get low."

The man from before, the young man who had asked about the news coverage, he was one of the six. Lou got under the table with Wordy on one side and the man on the other. He closed his eyes and thought about his mom, about how he wanted to talk to her.

He knew this was the job, about how they were supposed to protect lives above all else. He covered the man next to him as best as possible and waited for the countdown to end.

What he expected never came. Instead, a whooshing sound echoed beneath him, far beneath him. The floor they were on shuddered before he heard the crash of the ceiling collapsing on top of them. Concrete and wood rained down. Everything seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. He could hear each heartbeat reverberate in his chest, pounding harder than any of the debris could.

He was not aware of how much his surroundings had disintegrated or how much the sounds of crashing and tearing vibrated the very air around him. He was aware of the fact that he had Wordy on one side of him, a true friend and amazing coworker, and on the other an innocent who needed the little protection he could offer. If he had to die, he wanted to die protecting these people.

. . .

Sam listened to the sounds of people trying to stop his death. He heard the conversation over the tip line and he heard when they had the suspect in company. He heard the unnamed man repeating that it was too late, that there was nothing left to do.

At that point, he stopped listening to the com system. He glanced over at Spike, who was gone, either asleep or unconscious at this point. Part of him wished that he could be in the same state, oblivious to their immediate deaths. He glanced at his watch. They had one minute.

There were a lot of things Sam would have guessed he would do given only a minute left. The first thing that came to mind was to call Jules, the love of his life. He could also talk to his mother or father, say a prayer, cry. There were a lot of things he would have guessed he would do, but he did none of them. He looked down to his leg, burning and painful with every jostle, even as light as an inhale or exhale. He looked over at his unconscious friend.

In the last minute of his life, Sam Braddock slumped painfully back down next to Spike and covered his body with his own, wincing as he moved the injured limb. Sam had spent his whole life fighting, in war, in the SRU, for his relationship with Jules. In the last minute of his life, Sam closed his eyes and was glad that fought as hard as he could.

. . .

There was no mushroom cloud, no giant bonfire or whoosh of hot air. At first, there was less of a show than with the first bombs. It was two o'clock. The building shifted with the initial sound of faint explosives, then began to fold inward as the support columns were destroyed.

Sergeant Greg Parker watched as the building containing at least ten lives collapsed in front of his very eyes. He had been warned. The false bomb was the final warning. It all ended at two o'clock. After a good moment of shifting and moaning, the dust began to settle. Greg allowed himself that moment to think the worst, that his team was gone and it was because he could find the subject who loitered around at the crime scene.

As soon as the building stopped falling apart, the world started again. Greg could not explain the fire that took him over, as if one of the explosions had been set in his very core. The details of those moments, the moments where he was commanding what was left of his team to do their jobs, he could never give.

His mind was with those inside, with the six men he did not know and the four he did. His rational brain was making the decisions that needed to be made, but his emotional half was gone, completely out of himself and with the others.

Most of the flames had already been extinguished. The rescue men on scene moved to extraction, going off of the last known locations. It was unclear whether they were in search of injured men or bodies. Greg received no response through the com system. Jules, voice trembling with unshed tears, got no response through the com system. Greg hoped for the best and assumed the worst as he worked to get his men out.

**Want to find out what happens next? Review! **


	5. Chapter 5

**I decided to be evil and make y'all wait the whole day for this update! But, the next installment:**

With the subject in custody, there was little Jules could do. She assisted the rescue men when they could use it. She informed the paramedics all she knew of what they could expect. At this point, there was very little information to give. She called out occasionally into the com to see if it could rouse anybody. Beyond that, she felt helpless.

And if there was one thing Jules really, really hated, that was to feel helpless. She was the only woman on a team with six men. She knew how to hold her own. She put herself in situations where she was in charge to insure that everything went the way it was supposed to.

And nothing was going the way it was supposed to.

It started with Sam, she supposed. She ended it, but there was no way to end the way she felt, even if she tried to think of other men the same way she did him. There was no comparison. If she hadn't lost control, maybe she would have been less distracted by the sound of his voice. She hoped that wasn't the last time she heard his voice. If she hadn't been concentrated on the pause he took between words, she would have been able to get through the tips faster, maybe reach the only important one before it no longer mattered.

But that's not what happened. Jules had to resign herself to the fact that she had lost complete control of the situation. She knew something was going to happen at two, but she was powerless to prevent it. She tried, she tried. She might as well have been doing nothing in the end, for all that it did her and the team. For all that it did Sam, and Spike, Wordy, and Lou, and those six men still in the collapsed shell of a building.

Jules felt really helpless standing next to the paramedic's trucks waiting for the rescue men to come out with news, good or bad. They brought in tools, ones that Jules could probably name if she was in a better state of mind, but there was no hope at present.

At least they could still enter the building. The suspect, Ben Murray, had done a fine job of disintegrating the building with what he had. Minimal firepower for the structural damage it caused. Whole sections of the building were simply left as rubble, no recognizable floors remaining.

The conference room, the one where Wordy and Lou had camped out with the rest of the men, it still had some walls remaining, according to the first reports. The ceiling had collapsed, but they found signs of life.

As for Sam and Spike, she didn't know. Nobody knew yet. They were searching around the area, but two men in an already collapsed filing room was a little harder to find than eight in a conference room four times the size of the initial filing room. Still, the men were searching. They had not given up hope yet. Jules didn't want to ask if they were searching for bodies though, too afraid of the answer.

It was almost risible- the idea that Jules was afraid of simple words- but in this case she wasn't afraid to say that was completely and utterly true. She was terrified at the idea.

Just the thought made her hand automatically move to the com system to call out the names of her missing teammates again. Another hand stopped hers.

"They're gonna be okay," Ed said with a nod, so sure of himself that Jules felt obligated to agree. She found herself nodding as well.

"I know, they're going to be okay," she repeated.

"It's strange, releasing the scene to another team."

"Yeah, feels like we're not needed, right?" She tried to joke.

Ed turned to her and gave her a serious look, one that seemed like he was looking at the real her, the terrified girl in place of an SRU member at the moment.

"You're always needed," he said in a low voice. "Sam knows that, I know that, Sarge knows that."

"I just wish there was something more that we could do," Jules replied honestly, knowing that Ed felt the same way. They were less than half a team, doing nothing.

He had nothing to say to that. Instead he nodded in agreement and stood by her side as they waited for a verdict. It was possibly one of the hardest moments in her life, and though that sounded dramatic it didn't make it any less true. At least with Ed there, they shared the moment.

Sarge joined them from the van after everything he could do had been finished. He moved to where the two of them stood and joined them without a word. Jules could only assume that Murray had been put into custody. She knew the who, the how, and the when, but she still had no answer for the why. At the moment, nothing would satisfy her. Nothing would be even close to rationalize why someone would do this to the members of her team. To her.

. . .

When he became aware of his surroundings, he couldn't help but let out a groan. This was the second time today he had woken up in the same building from an unnatural sleep. It was… unnatural. The groan turned into a hacking cough with all of the dust in the air. He pulled his hand up from underneath him to try to push it away from his face. When he thought the coast might be clear, he opened his eyes and saw the dust.

He also saw the rest of his surroundings, most importantly, the others who also occupied a close space to him. Lou was on one side of him, unconscious. On the other side was a man with gray hair and wrinkles. He didn't look good. Wordy used the hand that had attempted to push away the dust to reach over and feel for a pulse. There wasn't one.

He often found himself in the proximity of bodies. Their job called for it. He had never found himself with one arm trapped beneath a corpse. Wordy had to hold back the urge to puke at the sight of what was left of the man. He turned his head and looked to Lou, who hadn't moved.

Seeing him for the second time reminded Wordy of the rest of the team. His earpiece was still in his ear, after everything that day, so he turned it on and called out. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu. This time though, he didn't feel the need to ask what happened. He knew about the first bomb, the ploy to evacuate the building, about the second set of explosions that served as the first line of attack. He was currently experiencing the aftereffects of the last bombs, the ones that were set with the one intention of bringing this building to the ground.

"Sarge?" He asked into the com, knowing there would be an immediate answer.

And there was, three voices clambering for a second before the Boss took over. "Wordy? Is that you?"

He could help the small smile that lightened his face. Stuck under a table that had probably saved his life, he could hear his team and how worried they were. He didn't want to think that he could be the man next to him, that this could have been the end. He had already spent too much of his day ruminating on the concept.

"I'm okay, I think," he answered the obvious unasked question. "Lou's here too, he's okay I think. His pulse is good."

Wordy took a breath, thinking of the other man.

"We have at least one casualty. There isn't much room to move, but I'll check out the others."

"That's a negative. Stay where you are. The building is compromised. We don't want it all coming down on top of you."

The Boss could probably sense the protest that he was about to spit out.

"There's a rescue team nearby. They are picking up on your vitals. We'll have you out of there real fast, buddy."

Sarge didn't lie. Wordy found himself manhandled out of the crevice less than ten minutes later. Lou had woken up by that point, and was arguing about the stretcher they had him on. The older man was on a stretcher too, a blanket covering his body and face. He didn't overlook his death, or the death of one other man from their group. Wordy was sitting in the back of an ambulance, a blanket over his shoulders. He hadn't gotten over the shock of this all yet.

Lou found his place next to him after they allowed him to stand up. He was still grumbling about the damn stretcher as he pulled a blanket around himself. It was easier to think about how they were okay, how they were out of the building, than entertain the idea of where the final two members of their team were.

Jules had joined them, as with Sarge and Ed. She looked the worst though, barely holding it together. Her and Sam were close, just as Lou and Spike were close. They were all here for each other, but Wordy knew how hard it was for her.

Ed left to go check on the progress of the rescue team, to see if there was any news, however little. Wordy watched him go as he felt the aches and pains the day had brought him. The paramedics had more than requested he be brought into the hospital. He had hit his head twice in the period of an hour. His adamancy to stay with the rest of his team was the only thing keeping him there.

He didn't know how the long the team stood together, waiting. Ed came back a little while later, running. Wordy looked up at the sound of his boots hitting the pavement. Being a member of the SRU kept them all physically fit, but Ed crossed the space faster than he could have ever imagined. Jules stood up to meet him.

"What's wrong?" She got out before Ed could say anything.

"They found the room. They're excavating now."

"Sam and Spike?"

"They're working on it, should be soon."

. . .

He had been awake for a while, maybe ten minutes, maybe two hours. There was little to go off of. Where it had been dark before, no light entered the room now. If what they were in could be considered a room. Spike felt pressure on him. He thought it might be the entire building. The fake bomb had quite a bit of firepower.

His thoughts were muddled, like someone took a stick and mixed up coherency with a bit of mud. He felt like he wasn't in his own body. There was no pain, no worry. He just remained still under the great pressure that didn't hurt, merely inconvenienced him.

Like he said, he didn't have that much of a grasp on time, only the passing of it. So when sometime later, a bright light illuminated his face, he had little idea of how long it had been. He did know that the light was painful. His pupils were completely dilated and ill-prepared for the onslaught. There were faces behind the light. And with them came the hands. They touched and prodded and moved the pressure above him, turning him and lifting him.

He would have been better before, back when it was just him in the dark. With the light came the introduction of pain. Everything hurt. This wasn't like the headache from before. This was everything. He closed his eyes off against it, but even that didn't stop the light. Before long hands pulled his eyelids up and shown a light into them. He wanted this to end.

He finally stopped moving, but the damage had been done. He felt woozy and confused and he had little idea of where he was. Then, another hand touched him. Only this time, it was not the insensitive, near cruel hands from before. This one touched his hand lightly, and it was accompanied by a voice that was just as soft and just as much of a break from the scrambling of before.

Spike allowed himself into the present, opening his eyes and becoming aware of his true surroundings.

"Lou?"

It was quiet, quieter than he intended, but his friend's head popped up like he had shouted, a smile breaking across his grimy face. There was a large scrape over his right eye, but he didn't look too bad. "Finally decide to return to us?" Lou kept his voice light, but that didn't mean Spike, in his confused state of mind, didn't pick up on the true emotions.

Spike had to think for a moment, rewind the day's awful events until he was back to the filing room, with Sam next to him and Wordy and Lou still trapped in the building. He cringed, this time not from the pain.

"Sam?" He asked. "Wordy?"

"Wordy's alright, you should worry about yourself right now. I heard you bumped your head pretty bad," Lou tried to keep the smile in his voice, even with the serious expression on his face.

"Sam?" Spike asked. He didn't miss the fact that his friend had skimmed over that.

"He'll be alright, too," Lou said. Spike also didn't miss the silent _I hope _at the end of his statement.

**There's only one chapter left. All questions shall be answered. Maybe. =) please review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**This is the last chapter. Long author's note at the bottom.**

When he had first woken up, there wasn't much not to complain about. Everything hurt. Shifting his weight sent daggers through his whole body. There were wires and tubes where he really didn't want to think about. And he was by himself, totally isolated and panicking about everyone else. That had been when he first woke up.

Now was a different story. He was on his way out of ICU where he wasn't allowed visitors. He had been dosed up on the good stuff, and maybe half of the wiring was missing. The gurney he was in rolled out into the hallway, IV hanging above him and nurses saying comforting things around him. The "good stuff" made it so he didn't really pay attention, so that didn't really bother him. Still, the tone of voice they used, as with the meds, kept him calm as they pushed his bed into a different room and then transferred him to the new bed.

Sam promptly fell asleep at that point.

When he'd woken up the second time, he could hear more than one set of breathing. The first was his own, which he could feel with the intake of breath against his broken ribs. The second came from next to his ear. Rolling his head to the side, he came face to face with the beautiful- albeit sleeping- Jules. He allowed a lazy smile to cross his face. It turned into a frown when he saw how tired she looked, how wrinkles and stress lines had appeared from nowhere. Jules didn't look okay.

Shifting his weight still hurt, even if he was on enough pain killers to kill all sensible thought. When he attempted to move to get a better view of his teammate and sort-of-ex-girlfriend, he couldn't help the sound that fell from his lips.

Her head shot up, hand flying to the call button. He moved, faster than he could even thought he could, to stop her hand before it reached its destination.

"Hey," he smiled, looking at her brown eyes for the first time in a long while. It felt like forever ago they were talking around the table about the quiet day, contemplating patrol duty.

"Hey," she responded, and the look on her face could not be compared to same on Sam had ever seen. "How are you feeling?"

He opened his mouth, feeling how cottony his tongue was, in order to say that he wasn't sure when Jules interrupted him.

"Don't you dare say you're fine, either. Because I have evidence you're not this time," she dared him. Sam's smile grew.

"I love you," he sighed. The words startled her.

"Don't think I'm going to let you off easy because you said that. I was so worried."

"I'm sorry," Sam could feel the weight of the drugs calling him back under. "I'm gonna be okay."

Before Jules could even come up with a response to that, Sam's breathing evened out. She smiled a teary smile before grabbing hand with her own again and resting her chin next to his head.

. . .

Sergeant Greg Parker walked through the hospital corridor with his typical purposeful walk. It wasn't like he intending to send off that demeanor, it was just easier to portray than the horrible worry that gnawed at his stomach every time he walked through these halls.

It had been a good 24 hours since Spike and Sam were pulled from the rubble. That included ten hours of wandering the halls waiting for news, 15 minutes of visiting with them while they slept off the anesthetic, and the rest of the time waiting for visiting hours to come into effect and Sam to be moved out of ICU. It had been a long time since Greg had felt calm.

But right now, he was the picture of calm, an easy smile on his face and two sets of get well soon balloons. His first stop was to Spike. He walked into the same room from the night before to see Spike and Lou laughing at something like one of them was not in a hospital bed. Spike looked banged up. He had stiches in his head from the initial bombs, a pretty bad concussion too.

He escaped too much damage from the second round, fractured wrist and some bruised ribs. He was fine, more than fine for the situation that he had just lived through. His eyes lit up when they met Greg's.

"Hey Sarge, how's it going?" He smiled. There was one thing that Greg had to hand the guy, he always lit up the room with a smile. Their bomb technician's goofy jokes and affection for Babycakes livened their often gloomy work environment. He was essential to the team, just like each member.

"Lots of paperwork to get done. Feeling better I see?"

"Lou here was just telling me about the two minutes it took Ed to find and contain the suspect."

Greg assumed he had not been aware for that part, he certainly made no move to join in on the conversation at the time. He wanted to ask what Spike remembered, but there was a time and a place for that and this certainly was not it.

"That's why he's second in command."

"Boss would've gotten 'im in 60 seconds," Lou joked. Greg didn't mind it since Spike's smile only grew. He was still a subdued man from the one he saw at work every day, but Spike didn't look too bad. He rested back against the inclined bed, arm propped up on some pillows placed beside him.

After a moment, silence filled the room. Despite all of their pretenses, it had been a close call. Wordy and Lou escaped with minor concussions, some abrasions and contusions, but that was it. Spike was alright too. Still, their lives hadn't been so sure yesterday. Greg relished in the moment, of being here with his team, of not having to tell Spike's mother and father that he was gone.

"You see Sam yet?" Spike asked with a more serious inflection in his voice. Greg looked up from his hands.

"On my way there next. I saw him for a moment last night, but not today yet."

"I think Jules was with him earlier," Lou added. "But they might've kicked her out by now. You know how the nurses are here."

Greg got to intimately know all of the nurses here after Jules was shot, and they were particular. Sometimes they'd let you stay after visiting hours, but they didn't like people dwelling too long. From the way Lou phased his words, it sounded like Jules didn't stay gone for long when they departed for the night. Greg wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't left at all. He knew what was going on between the two. He also knew that they ended it. Sometimes that didn't mean the feelings were gone though.

He visited with Spike and Lou for the better part of an hour before Spike began to get drowsy either from the stress of yesterday or the drugs he was on. It could just be that he was tired from the disrupted night of sleep he had last night. Greg knew that patients with concussions didn't get to sleep through the night. He bid his goodbyes and left Lou and Spike to do the same before he headed down the hall for his second visit.

He was lucky there was somebody to visit at all. Sam had sheltered Spike for the second round of bombs. From what he heard, the rescue men found him bleeding out on top of his friend. He had done his job until he couldn't any longer, protecting Spike's life with his own.

Sam was lucky, but when Greg walked into his room he looked anything but. There was a nurse with him adjusting his IV. When she saw Greg walked in she gave a small nod before finishing her job and leaving silently.

Sam had his eyes closed. They stood out dark against the pallor of his cheeks. Sam wasn't asleep though, when Greg approached he opened his eyes and looked hazily at his boss.

"You did good out there, Sam, real good," he murmured, resting his hand lightly on the hand Sam didn't have an IV running out of.

"I lied about how I was," Sam surprised him by responding. Greg shook his head.

"We'll deal with that later. You just focus on getting better."

"What's wrong with me?" he labored out, clearly struggling to speak clearly. Greg didn't want him to ask that question. He didn't want to be the one to tell him that his ribs were broken, that he had lost a lot of blood. He didn't want to tell Sam that his leg was in a soft cast because they were going to have to do another surgery on it either today or tomorrow to insert a metal rod from hip to knee. They were waiting for a little of the swelling to go down. Greg did not want to tell Sam this. He was surprised his doctor, or one of the nurses hadn't explained this to him. That was their jobs, not his.

"Nothing's wrong with you, Sam. You're going to be okay."

There'd be people who would say it was cruel to not tell Sam the truth, that he might never return to his job. There'd be people on his own team that would disagree with what he did. At the moment though, looking at Sam worn out and beat over by that building, this wasn't the time to tell him that. He needed to stay optimistic.

"Why'd he do it?" Sam didn't argue with Greg's lack of information. He simply accepted it and surprised Greg once again. "Why'd the suspect do it?"

Same began to cough harshly after he spoke and Greg offered him some of the water of the table nearby for that purpose. It was a moment before he felt safe to respond.

"WhitCo made some choices a while back that Ben Murray didn't agree with. He wanted to get rid of the building, thought that would stop them from making the same choices next time."

There was a lot more to the story. Ben Murray had been in a car accident and there was a shady policy at the time. Nothing illegal, but Murray didn't agree. Greg didn't want to go into that now. Sam would get the full story later, when he felt up to it. Right now, he needed to think about getting better.

"I'm real proud of you, Sam. You're going to be just fine," Greg said to reassure not only his friend, but himself too. Sam didn't seem to notice Greg's words. He was staring ahead in the haze of drugs and mild sedatives. Greg had to believe that his words were true. He hoped that someday the team would look back at yesterday and not laugh, but not think of it as the last call Sam went on with them either.

**Thanks so much for sticking with this story, reading it through. It was definitely an interesting write, and I'm thinking about trying to write some more Flashpoint, particularly because the reviews have been awesome (hint, hint). Anyway, it'd be amazing if you would take the time to review about the story as a whole. It'd make me happy/make me want to write more for this fandom =)**

**As for the ending, I know it is kind of left in the air. I've always been partial to those endings… Thanks for being amazing reviewers and I hope you keep it up! **


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